


Shut You Up

by PoeticallyIrritating



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticallyIrritating/pseuds/PoeticallyIrritating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"I'd totally kiss a clone. Like, for science, obvs."</em><br/><em>"Get me drunk enough and I might take you up on that."</em> </p><p>Basically I thirst for a very specific Sarah/Cosima dynamic that involves makeouts and platonic love but no romantic feelings whatsoever.</p><p>Context? What context? (See also: Delphine? What Delphine? Plot? What plot? etc.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut You Up

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: consent occurs while vaguely tipsy.

Sarah tosses back a shot of Fee’s shitty whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table, and her exhalation comes with a fanged smirk. Cosima takes her own shot, choking a little, less accustomed to cheap booze, but she likes the burn of it in her chest, the tingle of it in her fingertips.

“Shit’s awful, yeah?”

“Kind of the worst,” Cosima agrees.

Sarah leans back against the couch, folding her arms behind her head. “D’you think this’ll ever get any less weird?”

“What, the—clone thing?”

“Yeah.” The breath she lets out is long and heavy. “Really fuckin’ weird, yeah?”

“Aren’t you interested at all, though?” She can’t help herself, even as Sarah’s eyes roll back into her head. “I mean, this is something I’ve been studying my entire life,and then it turns out I’m living _inside,_ like, the ultimate nature-nurture experiment. Our genetics are basically exactly the same, and we’re all so different. And there’s so much opportunity for interaction, you know? Obviously I can’t totally be objective, but just getting to talk to everyone and see how differently we see things is amazing. And like, the stuff with physicality? How Alison’s all tense and has perfect posture, and you’re kind of slouchy? I know this whole situation is messed up, but I _live_ for this stuff.”

Sarah shakes her head. “Jesus. So, okay, ultimate clone experiment—what would you do?”

“Like, within our current parameters, where I’m one of the subjects of the experiment and have absolutely no power?”

“Sure.”

Cosima spins one of her rings around her finger, considering. “I’d totally kiss a clone,” she says, finally. Sarah raises her eyebrows; she lifts her shoulders in an unapologetic shrug. “Like, for science, obvs.”

“Seriously? That’s your ultimate experiment? ’S bloody weird, Cos.”

“Come on, think about all the little things you can glean from that! Like, real, serious kiss. Do you taste how I taste? Are your lips as chapped as mine? Do you like to be in control? Do you _need_ to be in control?” She pours herself another shot, hastily adding, “Hypothetical ‘you,’ just, you know, FYI.”

Sarah’s laugh comes out like a bark around her second shot. “Get me drunk enough and I might take you up on that,” she says, and suddenly Cosima is very focused on the way Sarah’s hair tumbles down her back and the press of her canines into her bottom lip and the sliver of skin revealed where her shirt is riding up at her hip.

Sarah’s barely on her way to drunk when she leans, dark-eyed and daring, into Cosima. Cosima’s had just as much to drink as Sarah and it wasn’t much but it’s hot in her cheeks and giddy in her chest, a low thrum of alcohol-induced arousal under her skin. Her eyes flutter closed as Sarah’s teeth scrape against her lower lip. When Sarah pulls back, just slightly, her eyes are bright and wicked. “How’s that?”

 Sarah’s close enough that the breath from Cosima’s laughter moves her hair. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Sarah shrugs. “Yeah, well. Why not?”

“Yeah, I mean, not saying I’m not into the theory—or, like, the practice either, I guess—just—wow. Like, holy shit.” The hand not supporting her against the back of the couch is gesturing wildly. “Like, we might have just done something completely unprecedented.”

Sarah snorts. “I dunno, seen how Alison talks about Beth?”

“Sarah, I’m serious! This might never have happened before, ever. Isn’t that _cool?”_

“Yeah, all right. So, what, you’ve fulfilled your dreams now? Never need to kiss your clone again as long as you live?” She hasn’t pulled any farther away; her breath puffs against Cosima’s lips and her eyebrows raise, daring. “Or what?”

Cosima closes the distance again. Sarah tastes…well, like whiskey, mostly; whiskey and something sweet she can’t identify. Sarah’s face knocks against her glasses, and she pulls away to take them off. When she’s set them on the coffee table, Sarah reaches for her waist again, fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt, tugging at the small of her back until they’re flush against each other.

“Wow,” says Cosima, breathless against Sarah’s lips. “I feel like I should be taking notes or something.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Sarah says, and she kisses Cosima again, rough, nails digging into her back. Her teeth play against Cosima’s lips, and Cosima kisses back, bites back, breaking the kiss to sink her teeth into Sarah’s neck. Sarah’s breath catches, and when she’s found her voice again she says (distractedly, Cosima’s mouth still against her skin), “Wouldn’t’a pinned you for a biter, Cos.”

Cosima grins up at her. “I can’t believe you’re surprised,” she says, and laughter hums through her closed lips. She leans back, eyeing Sarah up and down. It’s kinda fucked, sure, that the sight of Sarah flushed and predatory is making her pulse throb between her legs. Kinda fucked and kinda narcissistic and really fucking weird, but come on—it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Once in billions of lifetimes, even. It’s funny, though—or maybe not funny, maybe totally logical—that it’s not the similarities that turn her on. It’s the way Sarah tastes like sweat, the lingering scent of city grime in her sweater, the way Cosima can tangle her fingers in her hair. And it’s _really_ the low growl Sarah lets out when Cosima stops kissing her for too long, how it rumbles through her chest, how Sarah pounces with her teeth bared, leonine, and scrapes them along Cosima’s jawline.

It takes some effort to get Cosima out of her cardigan, Sarah tugging at it where it’s trapped between Cosima’s back and the couch, and even more to get Sarah’s boots off. When Cosima tosses her shirt behind her, Sarah sits back on her knees and shakes her head, eyeing her up and down. Finally she says, “Seriously, though, how the _hell_ are your tits so much bigger than the rest of ours.”

Cosima smirks, and reaches back to unhook her bra. “Push-up bra.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” Cosima drops the offending article on the floor. “Gonna back out now?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Sarah says, low in her throat, eyes glittering. She crawls up the length of Cosima’s body, still half-dressed, and plants burning kisses along her throat. Her hand slides rough beneath Cosima’s underwear as she nips at her chest, marking her skin pink with her teeth. Cosima lifts her hips upward, straining for friction, straining against Sarah’s hand, and then collapses back against the couch. “Is that the best you can do?” The words come out breathless, frustrated, teasing.

Sarah’s eyes flash, and she shifts, grinding the heel of her hand downward. “There you go,” Cosima groans, arching up into the pressure of her hand, the heat of her body. “God, I— _Sarah—”_ Her orgasm is a halting, desperate thing, blooming underneath the roughness of Sarah’s hands and between their gasping breaths.

Through Cosima’s dazed, blurry vision, Sarah looks triumphant, and flushed with arousal. What she says, though, is, “That was weird as shit.”

“What, too close to home without the glasses on?”

Sarah grins, toothy and unapologetic. “Think you come a little like I do.”

“Dude, seriously? Like, how?” She resists the nonsense urge to pull out a notebook.

“Mm…you got quiet. Girls’re supposed to get loud, yeah?”

Cosima’s eyebrows dart up. “Maybe you just weren’t very good.”

Sarah huffs an incredulous laugh. “Bloody _bitch._ Want to go again?”

Cosima considers her. “Nah, I think it’s your turn.” She helps Sarah out of the remainder of her clothing, working through the impossible task that is the tightest jeans in existence, and presses Sarah back against the seat of the couch.

Sarah was fast and rough, but Cosima settles between her legs almost lazily. The couch isn’t _really_ long enough for this, but she curls up her limbs and starts slow. But Sarah, it turns out, doesn’t respond well to being teased. Her hands grasp at Cosima’s dreads, knees locked around her head, and she gasps, “Cosima, you bitch,” before her words devolve into an incoherent string of murderous expletives and then fade to nothing but fast, shallow breathing as her body shudders against Cosima’s mouth.

“Fuck,” she says, coming down breathless and gorgeously flushed. Again, a stunned syllable: “Fuck.”

“You were right,” says Cosima. “Exactly the same. Even the way you—”

Sarah’s breathing still hasn’t fully slowed. “Jesus _Christ,_ Cos, you gonna make me into one of your lab rats?”

“Wasn’t that the idea?” She grins. “Hottest lab rat I’ve ever seen, if that helps. But”—she can’t help herself—“don’t you think it’s _interesting?_ That we’re all so deeply different, but when it comes down to something so primal, basically out of our control, it turns out we’re the same after all.”

Sarah reaches for a glass of water, rolling her eyes at Cosima. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, you and me, anyway.” She winks. “You think Alison would have sex with me if I said it was for science?”

Water sprays from Sarah’s mouth as she doubles over, shaking with laughter. “You know, Cos, I think you should find out.”


End file.
